


A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

by lordofthegays (highlyfashionablesociopath)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Protective Sam Winchester, dean got cursed by a witch to tell the truth basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3084914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlyfashionablesociopath/pseuds/lordofthegays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a run in with a witch, she is touched by Dean's relationship with Sam.  She lets him go, but without warning him that she put a curse on him to tell the truth.  Some things, though, may be better left unsaid...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

                It started out as a typical hunt.  How did it end up with Dean tied up in some witch’s basement?  He certainly had no clue.  As far as he remembered, he broke into the place and felt something hard hit the back of his head.  Dean was insulted that he even fell for such a basic tactic.  A look around the room revealed some sort of alter, and lots and lots of blood.  It was almost enough to make Dean feel sick in the stomach.  Almost.

Dean attempted to free his hands, but found that they were bound too tightly to just be picked off.  He’d need some sort of sharp object.  And it looked like the damn witch was smart enough not to leave any lying around.  He cursed under his breath.  Hopefully Sam would be there soon before his holders decided to pay a visit.  It was sort of degrading, in a way, depending on his little brother to save him like he was some sort of damsel in distress.  But he wouldn’t have it any other way.   He and Sam always had each other’s backs, no matter what.  Even when they fought, they’d eventually pull their heads out of their asses and kiss and make up.

Unfortunately, the “kiss and make up” part wasn’t too literal.  Dean would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before.  Hadn’t woken up with a rock hard erection after a dream about him before.   Hadn’t wanted to just hold Sam forever when he picked him up from Stanford after not seeing him for two years.  Hadn’t wanted to kiss his stupid face whenever he made those dumb puppy eyes at him.  But he’d choose to lie anyway.  He kept these thoughts hidden, locked away in the furthest corner of his mind.  They were wrong.  _Wrong…_

* * *

 

_He was in a clearing in the woods.  But he wasn’t alone.  Someone was holding his hand.  It was too large for it to be female…  Dean looked over and saw Sam, and he smiled.  Sam smiled back and laughed, showing his dimples.  However, there was no sound.  No audio to the dialogue they appeared to be having.  All that was to be heard was Sam’s laugh and whispers of “I love you…”_

* * *

 

 

Dean must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up, his captor was staring at him curiously.  She was, admittedly, sort of pretty for a witch.  Her hair was a glossy auburn, and her eyes were as green as emeralds.  She had a quiet demeanor about her.  It was hard to guess she was even skilled in the dark arts.

 

“Do you typically have dreams like that?”  She inquired, tilting her head to the side slightly. 

When Dean said nothing, she continued.

“You and your brother…  Very interesting.   All siblings have an unspoken fondness for each other, but you…”  She giggled slightly.  “You certainly know about _that_ , don’t you?”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean muttered under his breath.  Did she really see his dream?

The witch pouted innocently.  Dean wanted to bash her face in.

“Come, now.  I am not one to judge.  In fact, I think your relationship is very sweet.  I could tell you right now that your dearest little Sammy is on his way to save you.    But… it would seem that you had already guessed that, yes?  That is such a wonderful thing.  Being able to count on someone no matter what.  Oh my, it makes me just warm up inside.” 

She paused, getting a dreamy expression on her face for a brief moment.  Dean watched her carefully for any signs of a possibility of her attacking.  She straightened up again, and Dean stiffened.

“My word, you are so tense.  I’m not going to harm you, Dean Winchester.  In fact, quite the opposite.  I’m going to do you a favor.  I’m going to let you go.”

Dean looked at her with disbelief.

“You’re _what?_ ”

The witch smiled at him and raised her hand into the air, and suddenly the rope around Dean’s wrists had loosened.  When he freed himself, the witch had disappeared.

“What the…?”

After doing a thorough sweep of the entire house, Dean had figured she had really gone.  He shook his head, still stumped about the witch’s logic.  She captured Dean, but after seeing an albeit extremely sappy dream he had about Sam, she let him go?   Did this bitch have a death wish?

Dean probably wouldn’t find out any time soon, because Sam had just pulled up right as Dean was walking out the door.  The look of relief on Sam’s face made Dean’s heart swell, and he remembered what the witch had said to him.  _Shut up._

Suddenly, Sam’s arms were around him, pulling him close, checking him for any sort of injury.  Dean felt safe.

“I’m fine, Sammy.  The bitch didn’t even do anything to me.  She just… let me go,” Dean assured him.

Sam frowned slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.

“She _let you go?_   Seriously?  Did you kill her?”

When Dean shook his head, Sam’s frown grew.  Dean frowned back.

“She just disappeared, alright?  Did a sweep of the house, and she’s not there anymore.  Pulled a Houdini on me or something.”

“That’s weird…”  Sam muttered, pulling away when he concluded Dean wasn’t hurt anywhere.  Dean almost made a small noise in protest, catching it just before it came out.  He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah.  I know.   But, uh… She couldn’t’ve gotten too far, right?  I bet if we just drove around a bit we might be able to find her.”

Sam shook his head.

“No.  You look like shit, Dean.  We’re going back to the room for the day.  It’s getting late, anyway.  We won’t be able to see anything in this light by the time we get back.”

Dean’s heart swelled slightly again.   _Always trying to take care of me._

He bit back a smile and nodded, walking over to the car with him.  He was about to get in the driver’s side when Sam stopped him.

“I’m driving,” he declared.

Dean made a face, but didn’t object.  He was too tired to drive, anyway.  At least in the passenger seat, he could get a little extra sleep…

 

When he woke up, he was in a motel bed.  He didn’t remember waking up in the meantime to get there.  He must’ve been out pretty cold.  He wondered if Sam carried him…

The thought sent shivers down Dean’s spine.

 

When Sam saw that Dean was awake, he smiled at him, puppy eyes gleaming.  Dean practically melted.

 

“Good morning.  I got you some coffee.  Figured you could use some,” Sam greeted, bringing the cup over to his brother.

Dean sat up, taking it gratefully.

“Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam nodded.

“How’re you feeling?”  He asked.

“Kinda shitty, not gonna lie.  My head’s killing me from where that witch bitch hit me when I came in,” Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.  His eyes widened as he realized what he was saying.  Normally a forced “I’m fine” was all Sam ever got in reply.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed questioningly.

“Your head?  You need some aspirin or something?”

“Yes.  Badly.  Feels like my skull’s cracking open.”  Dean was tempted to put his fist in his mouth.  The last thing he wanted was for Sam to worry so much about him.  The kid had enough on his plate.

But Sam went right over to his duffel bag, pulling out a bottle of painkillers and handing it to Dean.

“Anything else bothering you?”  He prodded gently, as if he was afraid Dean would shut him out again, tell him he’s fine, that his head actually didn’t hurt, that he wasn’t hurting at all.

Dean downed the pills with his coffee and closed his eyes, practically biting his tongue.

“Yes.  I love you.  I love you so damn much.”  Dean flinched, as if he was being hit.

Sam’s eyes widened a little.  He hardly ever heard that phrase come out of Dean’s mouth.  Not since they were little.

“I love you too, Dean… Are you alright?”

Sam sat down on the bed beside him, watching him carefully.  Obviously, something was wrong if he was being this open about his feelings.

“No, you don’t get it, man.  I _love_ you.  Way more than I should.  I always think about how much I wanna just kiss you, hold you, fuck you senseless into the wall.  Actually, I had a dream about that once.  No, a few times.  Okay, a lot,” Dean took a deep breath.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.  I have no idea what’s wrong with me.  No, yeah I do, I’m in love with my friggin’ brother, and I’m a sick fucking bastard.”

For the first time since the conversation began, Dean worked up the courage to look over at Sam.  He was just sitting there quietly, watching him.

_Oh god.  He hates me now, doesn’t he?  He probably doesn’t wanna ever see my stupid face again.  I fucked up.  I fucked up.  I…_

Suddenly, Dean felt warm arms embracing him, pulling him closer, searching for clarity.  He felt Sam’s lips press against his own, and they were everything Dean ever imagined they would be and more.  It took everything inside of him to keep a moan from escaping his throat.  They started out slow and sweet, unsure and searching.  Gradually, they got more aggressive, more affirmed, more natural.

Sam pulled away before things went too far, to Dean’s discontent.

Sam just shook his head, resting their foreheads together, and smiled.  That smile that makes Dean’s heart melt.

“I already said I love you too, Dean.  Guess that makes us both sick bastards, huh?”

Dean was about to interject, but Sam cut him off with another kiss.

“We’ll hunt that witch down later.  She probably put some sort of truth spell on you.  But for right now… I think we deserve a little break.”

They resumed what they had been doing, and Dean never felt safer.


End file.
